Don't Keep Me Waiting
by ridetheair
Summary: King Russell throws a jousting tournament in honor of Princess Lucy's 16th birthday, when a mysterious knight enters the tourney and ends up becoming champion, Russell offers a job as a personal bodyguard for Lucy.
1. Chapter 1

"Too tight! I can't breathe!" Lucy shouted as her handmaids tighten her corset.

Her handmaid shrunk away as Lucy's voice echoed throughout the stone-covered room. "I'm sorry m'lady, is this better?" She loosened her corset as Lucy watched her through the mirror, her gaze as cold as last winter's blizzard.

"It'll have to do for now, won't it? I'm already late." She huffed and pushed her maid's hands away, which caused her to lose her balance and fall onto her bed. "What are you doing sitting down? Go fetch me my Wolfskin coat, it's absolutely freezing in here," she barked at her maid. "No, not that one! The one my father got me last birthday, yes, that one." The skin fitted her snuggly, her upper body shrouded in the fur; she made her way out of her bedchamber to the Great Hall.

The Hall is covered in a slate stone, unlike most of the castle, the stone is smooth, cool to the touch. Lucy always finds herself hugging one side of the corridor, running her fingers against the stone, just as she did when she was a child. Her House's banner covered the hall, one ever ten feet or so; their sigil was a Golden Lion clenching a dagger between its mouth. Her father changed it after he took the thrown, being a warrior King he thought the dagger would be, well, fitting. As she moved closer down the hall, she began to smell the coming feast; warm butter rolls that melt in your mouth, succulent pig roasted with garlic and lemon, sweet squash soup with basil garnish, roasted chicken marinated in the cook's special sauce, it was nearly too much for Lucy to take. But she heard her father's words boom into her ear, "No daughter of mine will fatten herself willingly. You keep your figure until a suitor claims you. A Fabray must always remain fit, lean." Lucy rolled her eyes at the memory of that conversation. "Fabray's are a lot of things, but they're not fat," she says quietly to herself. She continues down the hall, ignoring the alluring smells of the kitchen.

"There she is! My beautiful daughter, come here Lucy, let's see if you've aged at all," Russell Fabray gushes at the sight of his daughter, sky blue silk hugging the contours of her body, the Wolfskin he gave to her, tightly wrapped around her arms and torso. She really did look like a princess. "Happy birthday, darling," he coos as he wraps her into a tight hug, nearly crushing Lucy's body.

"Th-nk y-, fa-…" Lucy struggles to reply as her father's arms remain tightly around her. He pulls back and to hold her at arm's length, examining her in a somewhat joking manner. He lifts her chin ever so slightly, brushes a stray piece of hair, hiding her hazel eyes.

"My Lucy, my darling daughter, she sure has grown, hasn't she?" His king's guard all shook their heads in agreement. Most of them have tried their hand at courting the young Princess, but so far, none have been successful. "I still don't understand why you refuse to receive any gifts this year" He questioned his daughter; she wasn't a materialistic girl, just a few things here and there. She only ever wants what she'd truly use.

"All I wanted was a tourney in my name, you know how much I love watching the joust, father! That's gift enough for me." Lucy said smiling as her thoughts run off to the day's big event.

"Your Grace, the tourney will begin soon, we should probably make our way their now," the king's commanding officer pipes up. He is a bulky man, full of muscles, his neck was as thick as an ox. Some say he had the strength of three Knights. The Lion's Bull is what his peers called him. Lucy thought the name suited him well, but that was all she really liked about him. He tried to court her on more than one occasion, but his brutish ways never charmed the picky girl.

"Ah, thank you for reminding me, Ser Karofsky, come my darling daughter, we mustn't be late to your own tourney. Bring us our horses!"

* * *

The arena smelled of horses and blood, but contrary to popular belief, the Princess very much enjoyed the tourneys. She loved the roar of the crowd, the thundering hooves of the horses beating down the jousting lane, the sound of splintered wood crushing against steel and iron. There was nothing more thrilling to watch. She tried her best at tourneys to remain composed, telling herself that a princess must remain composed, lady-like, that a Fabray must not act as a commoner, especially in the presence of them. But she couldn't help the tingling sensation she felt, the rush of adrenaline, as she watched the matches, picking the winning Knight in each match.

"Ser Hudson is up next daughter, how do you think he fairs?" the king asks for his daughter's opinion; though no one is aware of this, the Russell only takes his daughter's counsel into consideration when making bets on jousts. She had an eye for power, a trait that was found in her mother.

"Well, Ser Hudson has been faring well today, however, the Knight he faces is something else father. I see the way he rides, commanding his horse with such ease, he does not struggle to ride," Lucy pointed out, as most knights struggle at times to control the beast they ride as well as the long, heavy lance. A knight more concentrated on the horse is most likely the one to have his rear meet the muddy earth.

"You think this man will take down Ser Hudson?"

"I think so, father. Ser Hudson is strong, make no mistake, but he's awfully clumsy, and can hardly be relied on when pressure surrounds him" she remarked, careful not to speak too much about Ser Hudson's flaws. He was her father's favorite suitor, and he had been trying to help the boy win Lucy's hand for years now.

"How about we make a wager: Ser Hudson wins, you take his hand; your mystery Knight wins, and I'll leave you to decide your own suitor, you'll hear no more of my meddling. What do you say daughter, we have ourselves a deal?"

Lucy turned her attention to the two knights. Ser Hudson, who was struggling to control the stallion beneath him, and hasn't even taken his lance from his squire, or this mysterious knight, knowing nothing of where he comes from or who he is, his black mare waiting calmly for his command, lance in hand, unwavering as he holds it vertically, waiting patiently for his opponent to ready himself.

"You have a deal father," Lucy agreed confidently as she took her father's hand in a firm shake. Lucy turned back to the arena, with a smug smile on her face. _I have faith in you Ser Knight, please don't lose. I won't marry him, but maybe I can-_ she stopped herself mid-thought. She wasn't some petty commoner who threw herself at dashing knights and brave men. If anything, men, and some women even, threw themselves at her. To think she was so willing to take this man's hand, and she hasn't even seen his face. It could be mauled beyond repair; he could look more like a feral beast than a man for all she knew. But, most anyone would be better than clumsy Ser Hudson, whom finally was ready to get on with the match.

The two knights took their positions, the mysterious Knight dressed in all black, matching the mare he road, with red lining to his armor. It was plain, but it looked very strong. Ser Hudson was heavily armored in a dark blue suit with his family's sigil in the center of his chest piece: a large blue salmon with golden eyes. His father acts as a treasurer for the kingdom, and therefore, has large sums of money lying in his keep, which he gives an ample amount to his only child to spend as he wishes. Ser Hudson, or Finn, was interested in what most young men were his age: armor, weapons, horses and women. Since money can only buy disease ridden prostitutes and perhaps a woman of lower class at best, Finn has settled on buying mostly the first three general items. What Lucy knew but her father definitely overlooked, was that Finn was breaking in a new horse at the tourney. Which is quite plainly, stupid; the horse knows nothing of the rider and the rider nothing of the horse. It explains why he's extra clumsy today.

The sound of the horn knocks Lucy from her thoughts and she inches up in her seat in anticipation of the first joust. Finn kicks his horse and it sprints off to a quick start, the large animal thundering down the track. But his horse has nowhere near the same speed as the darker Knight's mare. Looking more closely, Lucy notices the frame of the mysterious Knight, how small and almost dainty looking it appears to be, even wrapped in that heavy and intimidating armor. A resounding crack can be heard through the arena as the smaller knight's lance crashes against Finn's chest piece, the momentum nearly unhorsing him. One point for the mystery knight, four more to go if he keeps this up, or unhorses Finn. They opposing knights find themselves back on their respective sides and the horn blows again and they take off at a blistering speed. As they meet in the middle of the track, the darker knight landing a hit on Finn once again, Lucy notices something, something that she's never seen before in all the tourneys she's attended. The darker knight did not look away when his lance began splintering on Finn's armor. The whole time he watched his lance catch him in the chest, his eyes never faltering, never leaving his target.

Three more points, three more points and Lucy won. Finn should be absolutely irate at this point. He may be a self-absorbed oaf most of the time who walks around with a goofy smile on his face that reminds Lucy of a young child, but he was a sore sport. He didn't like to lose; in fact he hated it so much, that when he was close to, or felt the walls of an eminent loss closing around him, he became a different man. Lucy watched as he screamed at his squire to get him another lance, complaining that the one previously given was unbalanced and that's why he was hit again. He snatched it from him roughly and sneered at him through his helmet. This is another reason, and a very good reason Lucy thought, to refuse his hand. He was too childish for her, too volatile; she needed someone stable, and someone who could take a loss valiantly, not through a fit.

With Finn fuming on his horse, Lucy hoped that his anger would cloud his judgment and that he'd be unhorsed this round. The horn blew, and off they went again, Lucy watching intently as the knights met, hoping to be the last time they would. The arena let out a loud gasp as Finn was unhorsed, crashing to the ground, his armor covered in mud and who knows what from the previous matches. Most of the crowd then began to roar at the tourney's champion. Most were in shock; this knight no one knew of defeated one of the most loved Knights in the Kingdom, a favorite among the commoners. Some booed the new winner because they lost a heavy amount of coin, but the sound of upset at a lost fortune was drowned out by the cheers of the crowd as the small dark knight made his rounds around the arena, catching flowers and waving at the people.

Three knights gathered in front of the royal family and the king's guard to collect their winnings and titles. "Our great King Russell will now speak!" one of the king's squire roared and the crowd hushed quickly.

"As you all know, it is my daughter's, Princess Lucy's sixteenth birthday today," the crowd erupted with cheers; shouts of 'happy birthday' and 'hoorah's' could be picked out of the noise, "and what a fine tournament this was for her, and for all of us! One of the best I've seen in years! Congratulations to you, fine young men. Now, for third place, Ser Michael!" The crowd cheered as the young man removed his helmet and bowed his head to the king and then turned and waved to the crowd. Michael was a childhood friend of Lucy's and she showed him a small smile, her way of congratulating him. "In second place, Ser Finn Hudson!" The crowd cheered a little bit louder for him, as he took off his helmet as well and bowed to the king. He turned and spent more time milking the crowd for applause than Michael did. "And finally, in first place, champion of the tourney, I give you Ser Lopez!" Lopez? What an interesting name. Lucy did not recognize the family name, perhaps he came from a foreign place across the sea? Her knowledge didn't fair very well out of the reach of her soon to be kingdom. The knight bowed his head to the King, but did not remove his helmet to Lucy's great disappointment and did a small wave to the crowd. To say that Lucy was upset was quite the understatement; her curiosity and frustration pushed her over the edge, making her forget every lady-like manner she's ever been taught.

"NO!" She yelled, her father turned to her as she shot up from her seat, the crowd went quiet faster than when her father began speaking. "You, champion, remove your helmet, now." She commanded him, but was only answered with a simple shake of the Knight's head. "Are you refusing your princess? It's my birthday! How dare you!" He simply shrugged, still refusing to show her his face. "Guards," three guards came to her, a little hesitantly, looking for help from the king who was still shocked at his daughter's actions, "arrest this man for refusal of identification. And, remove his helmet while you're at it." The guards began moving into the arena when the knight suddenly held up his hands as a form of surrender and began moving to take off his helmet. Lucy stopped the guards' movement, wishing to see as clearly as she could what this man looked like.

As the knight slowly removed his helmet, she saw long dark locks, damp with sweat, fall past his shoulders. It was like he was teasing Lucy, as if he knew she had been waiting for this moment since the first match she saw him in. Another gasp from the arena, almost louder than the one when Finn was unhorsed, and for good reason; the knight, the champion of the tourney, clad in black, was a woman! A very beautiful woman Lucy admitted to herself but a woman nonetheless! Then she heard her father laughing, in fact he looked like he was about to burst the large vein in his forehead from laughing so hard. The crowd began to laugh with the king, unsure what was going on, if this was some prank someone was pulling.

"Are you happy now, princess? Are you still going to have your men arrest me?" The woman questioned Lucy. She couldn't be more than a year or two older than herself; she was so strong, and so confident. That voice, it was like velvet, soft and sultry, the sound of it washed over her, and her thought was completely lost.

"Of course not!" Her father bellowed, still chuckling at Lucy's side. "This is a site to see! A woman, no doubt a very young one, made ease of all the men my kingdom had to offer. No, tonight you and your kinsmen will join us for a feast in your honor, I insist." He smiled brightly at the proposal. Russell enjoyed his feasts, and now he'll have some entertaining discussion to go with it as well.

"I will gladly accept your offer," she said as she threw Russell a charming half smile and bowed her head. When she looked up, she met Lucy's eyes and stuck out her tongue slightly, a playful glint flash in her eyes. Lucy huffed loudly and stalked off to the carriage to make her way home.

* * *

Lucy was seated amidst the noise of the feast; the roaring of laughter, the telling of stories from battles and hunts, giggles from maids and the incessant loud chewing from their guests, all echoing off the high walls of the Great Hall. She was bored, deathly bored, as she played with her small portion of suckling pig. She hasn't seen the Lopez girl since she left the tourney, and the feast was already well underway. She was late.

"Luce, don't be so upset, a frown does not suit your face" her father said quietly to her.

"Father, she's late, that's incredibly rude, this is all for her, and," She stopped, she already acted out of turn once today, she knew twice wouldn't get her anywhere.

Her father smiled softly, "Luce, sometimes, people don't like the attention, they don't like the gawking or the spot light that fame brings them. She couldn't outright refuse me in front of all those people, and as the king I know this, she'll come on her own time. It wasn't mandatory, just an offer. Above all this feast is to celebrate your birthday, so smile and enjoy the company that is around you." Lucy looked at her father, she always admired him for his words, something that many people overlooked because of his reputation as a Warrior King. But Russell Fabray was more than a Warrior, he was a clever, wise man that Lucy always took counsel from.

"I think I'm going to step outside and get some air father, I'll be back momentarily." She was off and out of site before Russell could say another word.

It was quite chilly, summer was nearly ending and soon the harsh chill of winter would be upon the kingdom. Lucy was walking around, taking in the land around her when she heard noise coming from the stables. She peaked through the stable doors, slightly afraid that she may be walking in on someone who decided that a pile of hay would suffice for a bed, but instead she found something quite the opposite.

"What are you doing in here?" She saw her standing by the horses, covered in filth from the tourney still all the way to her mid-thigh. Why was she here and not at the feast her father was throwing for her? She didn't even have the decency to clean herself up.

"I'm attending to my horse, or is that not allowed?" She sneered back at Lucy. She's never met someone so bold as to speak to her in that way. But for some reason she didn't run off to her father and demand he mount her head over the large fireplace, yet that is.

"Well considering there's an entire feast in there just for you I'd say it's a little weird, and quite rude you haven't graced us all with your presence." Lucy looked over her, the way she handled her horse with such care and gentleness. She whispered soft coos into the mare's ear and watched as the horse neighed in delight at her words.

"Come here." She doesn't even look at Lucy, she summoned her as if she were no one, just another person. It's demeaning to Lucy to be spoken to in that manner, _how dare she command me like some commoner?_ Lucy thought to herself. The knight looked at her and sighs audibly. She walked over to Lucy and brushed her hands off on her backside, then she reaches out her hand. "Come on, I want show you something." She said to her in almost the same cooing fashion as she just did with her mare. She looked into her eyes and for the first time today, Lucy really saw her. She saw her smoldering brown eyes that have softened quite a bit since today's competition, the dark complexion of her skin, not from work, a darkness she was born with. She also noted there wasn't a blemish in site on her face, though she spotted a jagged scar on the left side of her neck. Lucy's own eyes traveled to the worked hand the girl has offered her, attached to lean muscled arms, her legs are covered but she could see the strong muscle beneath the Knight's soiled material that commanded her mare so effortlessly beneath them. She looked at her hand, which was still quite filthy but took it gently in her own. Slowly the girl, whom Lucy also noticed was a little bit shorter than her, navigated her through the muddy stable to where her horse was. "Go on, you can pet her, she's very gentle." Lucy ran a hesitant hand over the mare's soft snout and giggled as the horse snorted and shook her head in happiness.

"Why do you ride a mare instead of a stallion?" Lucy asked her, one of the many questions that have been on her mind all day. It's quite rare to see a jouster on a mare, they're simply not as strong.

"Well, I'm light, she's light, we move faster together than most do, and that moment alone is enough to unhorse any man," she paused and watched Lucy feed her horse some carrots, "but in all honesty, I believe stallions are more unpredictable."

"What do you mean?" Lucy questioned the smaller girl, she has never thought that stallions specifically were unpredictable; I mean they were animals, all animals can be that way but was one gender really more unpredictable than the other?

"Well look at it this way, when she's in heat, it'll make the stallion across the way _very_ hard to control."

"That's cheating!" Lucy exclaimed a little too loudly, a soft tint of pink covering her cheeks, embarrassed by her second outburst.

The knight took notice of her blush and smirked smugly at Lucy, "That's tactical advantage, princess. I'd be a fool not to recognize that." She said calmly. Lucy looked over at her as the smaller girl fed her horse another carrot. "Does that make you think less of me?" The knight questioned Lucy. There was a softness in her voice, as if she was worried, almost hurt, that Lucy would think less of her skill as a knight.

"No, it doesn't." Lucy said, as she tried to make eye contact with the girl so she knew that she meant it.

"Are you mad that I'm not a boy?" The question was so innocent, but so blunt. Lucy looked away from her and regarded the question. Was it because she wanted to marry the fierce Knight she saw in the arena, whom beat that clumsy man my father wished she married? Or was it something else entirely? Lucy felt the girl's eyes on her as she came out of her thoughts. The girl looked uneasy from her silence.

"I…I don't know." Lucy stuttered her answer. The small knight then looked away, trying to hide her shame and hurt, then grabbed Lucy's hand in her own and led her out of the stable. Once they were out the girl dropped Lucy's hand and began to walk away. "Where are you going?" Lucy called out to her.

"To the feast," she replies turning towards Lucy as she continued her path walking backwards, "don't keep me waiting, princess." She called back sarcastically.

* * *

"It's a rare thing for me to bet against my daughter, so it wasn't quite surprising to see the outcome of the match," Russell jested at the young woman, "in fact; I have a proposition for you, Ser Lopez."

"And what would that be?"

"I'd like you to join the king's guard; you'd be a wonderful addition to my men."

"Wouldn't it be insulting for them to stand next to a woman?"

"Nonsense, I'll have their heads if they so much as think that!"

"Your guard is already so large; I don't think you'll have any use for me."

Lucy watched her father ponder this for a moment; she had no idea where he was going with this and why he asked her to be a part of the guard! It was a huge honor, and she wasn't even a part of this kingdom, she wasn't even sure exactly where she was from.

"My daughter needs a personal body guard. I'll pay you much more than you'd get in the king's guard or any other job you might find."

"That's a generous offer your grace, but I don't think I'm worthy of such a job." The smaller Knight ducks her head, she wasn't sure how long she could protect the girl she thought to be one of the most selfish and annoying person she's met. The girl might find herself needing protection from herself as well as other assailants

"NONSENSE! You'll be perfect, and you're a woman, even better!"

"Why is that better?" Lucy finally put a word in after she closed her jaw, though still in shock by her father's blunt request.

"Because she won't be tricked by a woman's ways. She'll see past every trick, you won't shake her off you with just a bat of your eyes. Don't you think Ser Lopez looks strong enough to take on someone who may threaten you? They'll underestimate a woman. Plus no man's gut can trump a woman's intuition. Believe me, your proof enough to that fact." Her father answered her with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Lucy knew that something was most certainly going on; her father was plotting something and she was very nervous to find out what exactly.

Lucy watched Ser Lopez lost in thought as she stared into her plate, as if her food would suddenly whisper her an answer for the best choice to pick. This was an offer that would change her life, and the knight knew this.

"Alright, I'll protect your daughter from any harm that comes her way; I shall be her loyal bodyguard.

**A/N: Hey everyone, so this is my first fic, and I thought about giving Quinntana a try. I kind of got my inspiration from reading/watching Game of Thrones, so that may explain why I use 'Ser' instead of 'Sir'. Other than that, let me know how you guys feel! I know Lucy (Quinn) is kind of a bitch right now but give her a chance, Santana will pull her out of her icy demeanor! Thanks for reading! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, duh. **


	2. Chapter 2

"Lucy, Lucy come back here!" Russell beckoned at his young daughter; her second storm out of the day. She couldn't believe this, this woman, this girl, was to be her bodyguard? How could her father even ask such a thing? It was preposterous! She kept going, her legs carried her up the stone steps, as she tripped over her dress a few times on the way up. Lucy scrambled her way into her bedchambers, panting heavily as she fell to the floor. Lucy tried to cry, she was determined to remain on the floor in a heap of fabric until she ushered out some tears, but nothing. She didn't understand exactly why she was upset by this, but all she knew is that she didn't like this one bit, and that was reason enough to leave the Hall in such a petty fashion. She pushed herself off the floor and sat in front of her vanity; Lucy noticed the stray hairs out of place and tried slicking them back against her head, but they were relentless on their endeavor to stay array. This only frustrated Lucy more, her physical appearance now matched her current bristled demeanor. She huffed in anger and locked herself in the second smaller room connected to her chambers.

* * *

"Your grace, perhaps I should talk to the princess; words from a friend may do her some good." Said the young knight, Ser Michael.

"Right, go on Michael, talk some sense into that girl," the king huffed, he could only take so much of his daughter's out of character behavior, "she's had an awful day from the look of it."

Michael began his assent up the large castle tower. His footsteps weren't as rushed as Lucy's, mostly because he needed time to think out what to say. Everyone who knew Lucy, knew that she hasn't been the same since she was a little girl, that the innocence has ran dry in her heart. Michael only hoped that she merely built a dam preventing her from revealing who she really is, who she can be. He arrived at her chamber and knocked on the wooden oak door before entering. "Luce, Lucy, where are you?" Michael called out at the entrance as he looked around for the princess. As he walked into the room, he recalled his childhood; Lucy and him would always play the best games together, from hide and seek to stealing the chickens the cooks were going to prepare for the evening's meal. He walked around the bed chamber and noted how much, to his surprise, the room hasn't changed in the past few years. The bed has gotten bigger, her wardrobe has changed from the time they were little, more clothing, full of rich winter coats and soft, rare furs. The vanity was her mother's, and off to the side he saw the same necklace the queen wore every day, set in a velvet box that was left open by someone.

"I look at that every day, wishing her back to me…" Michael jumped slightly at the sound of Lucy's quiet voice. Lucy stepped out of the entrance of the smaller door and walked towards her bed, Michael still remaining by the side of her vanity. She wasn't looking at him, instead she kept her hands busy by running them through one of her numerous blankets on her bed.

"Lucy," Michael said softly as he made his way to her side, taking her hand gently in his, "what's troubling you m'lady?" He asked with a small goofy smile, a smile that Lucy has missed seeing for what feels like ages.

"Oh, don't call me that, Michael." She said as she rolled her eyes playfully. He smiled larger at the rise in spirit, but his smile quickly disappeared as he saw the glimmering tears in her eyes, the water threatening to run down her face at any minute. The tears finally came; Lucy laughed quietly to herself, hoping Michael hadn't heard. "I don't want her as my bodyguard," she confessed to him, as she looked down at her bed, "father doesn't even know her, how can he offer such a thing?!" She gripped her blankets, her knuckles paled as her fingers tightened around the soft material.

"You're right, no one really knows of her, but what's the harm in letting her take this up this task? It's not like you'll just be left with her, you'll have the king's guard and soon enough I'll be there protecting you as well." He tried to reason with her, even being her best friend, he did not understand why she was so distraught. This woman was strong, strong enough to not lose a single match at the tourney. He wondered if Lucy would feel differently if she were a him.

"He's up to something, I know it. Father has his ways." She scoffed, turning away from Michael suddenly and sat on the opposite side of her bed, furthest away from him.

Michael followed her and sat at the edge of her bed next to her and sighed softly, "Maybe he's trying to get you to be more adventurous, to meet more people…" Michael uttered the last sentence quietly and hesitantly.

"Be more adventurous?" she turned to face him, "Meet more people? I do just fine attending the events my father asks of me to, and I think I feel my need of adventure just fine, thank you!" Her icy glare cut right though him, but he wasn't going to let Lucy stomp around and get away with treating him like they haven't been friends since they could walk.

Michael shot up off the bed and stood over Lucy,"You stick yourself up here in this damn tower night and day, and only if an event absolutely demands your presence do you leave this chamber! When was the last time you say anyone but me our own age? In fact, you missed my last birthday and anointment into knighthood!" He said a little more harshly than intended. But he didn't let the guilt overrule him, Lucy need to hear this.

"I sent you lovely gifts both days and-"

"Items mean nothing to me, Lucy, I wanted to see you. I wanted to celebrate with you! Do I mean nothing to you?"

"Michael I-"

"Do you mean nothing to yourself? You won't stop punishing yourself for things you are not responsible for!" He stepped back as he realized he might have pushed things too far. He was so angry and upset about their drifting relationship that he left his selfish desires to have his best friend back supersede her needs of consolation. "Look, Lucy, you deserve more friends than just myself. This is not who you are, you do not throw fits like a child or scream at guards to force things your way. You're a good-hearted, warm, and wonderful person, who's going to make a fine queen, but you have to stop all of this." He motioned his hands in the air as he tried to describe all her past years actions. He took both her hands in his as he kneeled in front of her; her hands looked like a child's in his much larger ones. Michael looked up at her and saw the tears streaming from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry Michael, I'm so sorry. I've been a terrible, terrible friend to you." She cried out softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Now, now, don't cry Luce, it's alright, I understand, it's okay," Michael said softly to her as he wrapped his arms around her small slight frame.

"Wh-what can I do to make this up to you?" She asked, her voice quivered with hiccups as her tears slowed.

"Bring me my old Lucy, my best friend, and give this whole bodyguard issue a chance, your father has always meant well, I don't think he'll fail you now." Michael said with a small smile.

Lucy stood slowly and wiped away her tears, "Alright, I suppose I can give this a go, but I won't promise that I'll like it." She stated plainly as a soft smile grew on her lips.

Michael saw the faint smile and his own grew, "Don't count her out either, she might grow on you." He winked as they both began laughing. _Maybe she'll come back to me_, Michael thought. He could only hope.

* * *

"Are you mad?! How could you accept that offer?"

"I don't know what you mean, and I don't appreciate that tone, Maester William." The young knight shot back at the thing gangly man.

"The whole purpose of showing up at this tournament was to survey the king's best warriors and be off! We got what we came for, now we must go back and tell your father what we've found."

"What better way to get more information than to stay right under the king's nose? To stay right with his precious princess." She sneered out the last part with the thought of that selfish and childish girl, storming out of the Hall as if she was being pursued by the man eating warriors that claim the east.

"You're taking this too close to the heart. Pleasing your father is blinding you to any logic! The king is not without mind, he will find out about you, no matter how hard you try to hide who you really are. You're a fool and just as childish as that spoiled girl!" He sneered back at her as he pointed his finger above them.

Santana glared at the taller man and stepped closer to him, "It would be wise of you to hold your tongue, before I make better use of it out of your mouth." He tried stepping back but each time he took a step away from the infuriated girl she took a step closer to him until he was pushed against the stone wall. "You speak out of place, I did not ask for your counsel. You will return home and report to my father what we've found here. I will send messages of information as I come by it." She glared at the older man making sure he commands set in and then walked back to her small bed that the king gave use to her for now and began to pack his things for his journey back.

"Santana, please, listen to reason. You're no use to your father dead. Return home-"

"I am no use to him alive either!" She screamed at him as she turned to face him; her eyes wide with frustration and hurt as she confessed to the anguish her father has put her through since she was a child. "Doing this is what is best. I will be bringing him information directly from the source, he will get no better knowledge than this. I must do this, William, I must."

He studied her, the slouched, defeated demeanor. There was no talking her out of this horrible plan. Her heart was set on it, this was her one chance to prove herself. "Alright, I'll leave you to it then. But your blood will not be on my hands, I've warned you."

"Don't worry, my blood will be kept where it is now, not much can be said for those who sleep above us." She said, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to stomach the thought of assassinating the kingdom's royal family and guard.

Will picked up on her hesitancy and sighed, "You're not ready for this, Santana…"

She gave him no answer, and with that, the older man gathered his items and took off into the night to bring news to the young knight's father. Santana slumped down onto the floor as soon as he left the small chamber, her back stiffened at the cool touch of the walls. She rested her head in the palms of her hands between her legs as she spoke softly to herself, "Still your heart, Santana. You must not lose sight of your purpose." She sighed in exasperation, and mentally kicked herself knowing it wasn't going to be as easy as whispering a few words to herself in a lonely stone room.

**A/N: Hey everyone! So I'm going to try my best to do weekly updates. College starts in about a month so hopefully I can get this going before life gets busy again. Thank you all so much for the feedback and all the follows and favorites! If you'd like, you can message me comments, concerns, ideas, etc on my tumblr: .com. Hope you guys enjoyed the cliff hanger (; Until next time!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, duh. **


	3. Chapter 3

Lucy was staring into her mirror and seated at the vanity that was given to her by her father. The very one her mother used to sit at. Lucy ran her hand across the velvet box and clicked it open to reveal the beautifully jeweled necklace that she whispered her prayers to. She wasn't lying to Michael when she divulged to him the childish habit she did every day. Lucy admired the jewelry; it wasn't gaudy or overwhelming to look at. Precious stones lined the entire necklace; beautiful blues that went perfectly with her mother's eyes, this necklace suited her so well; the last remaining physical essence left of Lucy's mother sat inside the velvet box, never to be worn. A knock at her chamber's door shook her out of thought. "Come in." She saw her father enter the room, and she knew from the way he avoided her eyes that this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation at all. She was ready though, her actions from yesterday gave her father full reason to hash out whatever punishment he saw fit.

"I don't have to tell you that your actions the other day were completely inappropriate." He began, looking down on his daughter with distaste. "You're a smart girl, and I think you know damn well what you've done. What you may not know is that your actions have caused a complete uproar with the people. 'How can this spoilt child rule a kingdom?' 'Why isn't the king acting like a father instead of a friend?' 'If he can't keep his own daughter in line, how can he keep control of a kingdom?!'" Russell was nearly yelling by the time he finished reiterating the kingdom gossip; his face had begun to take on the faint color of cherries. Lucy flinched at the site of her father so infuriated. Then silence fell upon the room; Russell's chest still heaved from the anger coursing through him, and Lucy still quivered at her father's pointed words.

"Father, I- I truly am sorry, I will do whatever it takes to fix this," Lucy spluttered out; she tried her best to make some sort of head with him.

"You are damn bloody right you're going to fix this mess. And I know exactly what that is. In two days' time, you will leave and visit the nine lords of our kingdom. You will dine with them, you will converse with them. You will remember their names, their children's names, their children's children's names, you will know their sigil's, their importance in the kingdom, and finally, at the end of your tour, you will choose a suitor from one of these families and you will wed him. Do I make myself clear?" Russell was still gaining a deep cherry color around his face, apparently the silence only boiled the king more.

"Yes, father." Lucy looked down, telling herself not to cry, that she was weak if she cried and if her father saw, her, the future queen, shedding tears of what others might think isn't even a punishment at all, well then Lucy would find herself in an even worse situation.

"Excellent, start packing your things then." The king turned swiftly and stormed out of room, slamming the heavy oak door behind him.

Lucy looked at her shaking hands and let her head fall into them; the only one who has never truly given up on her, next to Michael, was her father, and she just spat in his face in front the entire kingdom. But thinking of Michael made her realize that she was still being the childish Lucy, this wasn't getting her anywhere; no more tears shed over this petty matter. It's time she truly knew the people of this kingdom, to show them that she really does care about their wellbeing and who they are. This was her chance to start fresh, to be the queen her mother wanted her to be, to be the queen her kingdom will need. She moved off her bed and grabbed a trunk and started packing everything she'd need for her journey around the kingdom.

* * *

"Ser Lopez, I'd like to speak with you a moment." Michael has been nervous all day since he heard of the king's punishment for Lucy. He knew that Lucy was trying, or promised to try, to accept Santana as her personal guard, but, he didn't think either one were ready to spend so much time together so quickly. He decided to talk to Santana, to sort of prepare her for the coming journey and also make sure he can fully trust this girl.

"Of course, let me just pack this one final thing. Come in, come in." She called to him from inside her small room.

Michael stepped into her bed chamber, his metal boots clinking on the stone floor. He himself was preparing to assist in training the king's army and had to be in full uniform, therefore, unable to attend to Lucy on her long journey to visit the nine lords. In fact, the only guard she'll have is Santana; all the more reason to give her a talking. His armor fitted him well, tailored to his lean body. The armor itself was plain, he didn't need the gaudy stone gems and intricate carvings adorning his chest plate like other knights were so keen on; he only wanted a suit that could take most any hits without caving in on his chest or head. His face has always remained clear of any stubble and is still vacant of any scarring or weathering. Some of the older guards and knights jest him for having such a young face, and how it only shows his inexperience. They soon found out that he was one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom, and that being quick on his feet rightfully justified the lack of scarring on his body. But some still say the use of two swords, which was highly uncommon, is an unfair advantage. However, these men don't recognize the skill it took to master two swords and also the apparent fact that he used no shield, a must needed item when parrying a fatal blow from a great sword. His unique skill and gutsy personality is why the king has moved Michael so swiftly up the ranks in the most intimidating and colossal army the kingdom has seen.

Santana finally had put the last piece of clothing in her trunk and slammed it shut. She then moved to sit on her bed and looked up at the tall man in front of her. She noted the double swords and immediately took interest in what at first she took as a mediocre warrior, "Two swords? Interesting choice of weaponry, especially for a knight; usually I'd see a great long sword that graced the side of a hip and a large shield fastened to the back." She looked up at him curiously; she wanted to know how he came about even finding a master to train him.

Her curious expression made Michael grin slightly, he was so used to being ridiculed by those who he first met fully uniformed that he couldn't help but burst into an enthusiastic explanation. "When I was a squire, I found that completing my daily exercises, to be, well, challenging. I wasn't the strapping young man you see before you today," he said with a hint of playful sarcasm as he took a seat on a wooden chair across from Santana's bed, "lifting even the practice sword and shield was a challenge for me that some days I could barely swing it." He looked down as he recalled his old memories of his weaker self. "But, one day, Lucy and I were playing out in the field by the stables. We were playing pretend: I was her loyal knight protecting her from the evil man eating warriors that had sieged the castle. I picked up two sticks in about even size and used them as swords, smacking and stabbing the air. It felt good, no, it felt brilliant. It was so natural." He smiled and looked up at her, and she genuinely returned the smile to him. "You know how everyone says that a sword should be an extension of your arm, and each sword has a character that meshes perfectly with a swordsman?"

"Yes, I've heard those pieces of wisdom once or twice." Santana rolled her eyes at the overused sayings.

Michael ignored her eye roll; even if nearly every swords master you went said one of these phrases in some form or another doesn't mean it took away from the meaning behind it. He looked down again and continued, "I was so afraid I wouldn't find mine, I wouldn't find the sword to extend my arm; to allow me to properly be what I wanted to be, to allow me to protect those I care for." Michael looked away towards the oak door, his mind out of the room until Santana spoke.

"But you found yours when you picked up those two sticks?"

He turned back and smiled at her, a glint of pride and happiness shinning in his eyes, "Yes, I did. I was so unbelievably happy when I was allowed to take up arms with two swords. They were specially made for me as well, a gift, a very generous gift." His cheeks reddened and Santana saw her chance.

"And who might this gift be from, a lady, perhaps?"

"Not just a lady," he smiled softly, his thoughts turning to her and then sudden realization fell on his face,"...but it doesn't matter, nothing will come of it."

Santana looked around awkwardly; she wasn't sure how to console the young man, she had never been good at advising people. She cleared her throat which brought his attention back to the present, "So what is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

"I won't be going with the princess on her journey," he stated obviously, "I, uhm, well I wanted to talk to you about, how to, er, handle her I suppose?" He said hesitantly, and mentally kicked himself at how his mind suddenly lacked proper vocabulary.

Santana noticed this mental lapse and snorted, "Handle her? Is she truly this childish all the time?" She asked while scrunching her brow; she could not 'handle' that dramatic girl if that were truly the case.

"Look, she's been through a lot-" Michael started.

"Oh please, we've all been through a lot. That's life for you, you take the hand that's given. If you want to better it, then you work for it. I'm not going to pity the poor fool across from me who didn't have the best of luck that day, especially if all they're going to do is feel sorry for themself." Michael picked up on the slight hint that Santana wasn't completely talking about the princess in her little rant.

"I know, but, look, she's promised to act more polite, more like her true self, which everyone loved, until-" Michael stopped himself; he felt out of place talking about Lucy to this girl he barely knows, and her deep reasoning for acting the way she did was not something Michael was about to reveal.

"Until what?" Santana inquired; maybe she should give the princess the benefit of the doubt. Even if she was the poor fool across from her.

"I think that's something Lucy and yourself should discuss;" he pushed the question aside, "all I'm asking of you to do is to be patient with her. She'll come around, and then, she'll really surprise you." He was off in his own world again, smiling to himself.

"Alright, alright," Santana agreed, "I'll be patient with the princess, but if she pushes me to the edge, I make no promises she'll be back in one piece." Santana said, half-jokingly.

"If she isn't, rest assured that the rest of your would be bright future as a warrior will look very, very dark, you have my word on that." His expression darkened as his seriousness translated to Santana that even a jesting manner, the princess's safety was no laughing matter to him.

"Just a playful joke, no need to get offended; your princess well be nice and safe with me." She smiled, afraid that her joke might be taken too seriously and cause red flags to be raised.

At the sound of the princess's safety ensured, Michael regained his goofy composure, "Excellent! Well, I must be off, the new recruits are probably curious as to where I am." He chuckled as he realized he was very late.

"Well, off with you then!" Santana chastised jokingly. "Don't worry, Michael, Lucy will be safe with me." She turned her back to him as she said the last part, she had never been a good liar.

With his goal of the day accomplished, Michael set off to the barracks, still very late, and started speed walking to make up for lost time after he left Santana's room. She watched him leave and chuckled to himself; his love for the girl went much farther than just childhood friends. She wondered if she felt the same way for him, if they were in some unrequited love relationship where they both act like chicken with their heads cut off when anything of the romantic subject comes into conversation. Santana stopped her thought as she realized that might be very well true. Michael may be the future king someday, happily married to his best friend. She sat down on the cold floor and rested her back against the small bed, _why does this matter to you?_ She thought to herself, _still your heart, Santana, you know what father may very well order you to do, at any minute. _That thought alone made her clench her fists, she didn't know what it was about this girl, this selfish, petty, girl; she's killed plenty of people before, why her. Why is it so hard to stomach this? She got up and threw her pillow in the air while simultaneously punching it; she heard the satisfying _woosh_ the impact of her fist made against the feathered pillow. In two days they were to leave on their journey, she had to get ahold of herself by then, she won't fail her father. Not this time.

* * *

Lucy was finally packed and ready to go; she spent all of her short two days packing the necessary gowns, clothes for traveling and all other essentials she'd need. To say she was nervous was putting things lightly; Lucy was quite shy, and lately when she tried to come out of her shell all that surfaced was an ill-mannered and bossy little girl. Perhaps she'd be able to practice her social skills with Santana, after all, it would be the perfect test to see how far she can get back to her old self that she promised Michael to become once again.

The sound of a hard knock at her oak door echoed through her room. "Princess, it's time to go; I hope your things are packed and ready to go." Santana said through the other side of the door.

Lucy opened her door and looked at Santana who was dressed in all dark leathers that fit the contours of her muscled body perfectly. Her brown curled locks haphazardly fell over her left shoulder, while the rest of her hair cascaded down her back. She realized that her looking had turned into staring and her mouth was slightly gaped. "Uh-uhm, come in, I need some help bringing down my things." Lucy stuttered out and moved to the side to allow Santana into her room.

Santana noted the loss of words and decided to take advantage of the situation and brush slightly against the blubbering girl, her hand brushing her Lucy's when she reached for the door knob to close the door behind her. "What shall I take down first, m'lady?" Santana asked coyly with a slight wiggle of her brow.

"Don't call me that, please, Lucy will do just fine." Lucy asked quietly of Santana as she looked down at her feet and rubbed her hands together as she got fidgety.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Santana stepped closer to her and took her hands in her own; she didn't understand why she was doing this but she felt a tug deep inside her to console the troubled girl in front of her, "I really am, Lucy is all I'll call you," she squeezed her hands lightly and bent to look into Lucy's hazel eyes, "I promise. Now let me get your things down to the carriage and we'll be on our way, okay?" Santana smiled softly and slowly started to pull away from Lucy.

Lucy stepped back and watched Santana gather her first trunk, "Thank you, I-I know it's petty of me but, you have no idea what that means to me," she kept her eyes on the small brunette as she waited for her to turn and to get a chance to look in the genuine dark eyes she wished to see once more.

Santana felt a pair of eyes on her as she moved the full trunk and turned to meet them, "Don't mention it Lucy," she tried to play off the emotional conversation they were headed to and lighten the mood, "we need to get that beast of a man up here to help with these trunks though, did you pack your entire wardrobe?" Santana jested with her.

Lucy grinned, "Maybe I did, but unfortunately, that beast of a man is preoccupied at the moment," Lucy stepped towards her and bent slightly to reach near eye level with the young knight," do you think you can handle all of this, Lopez?" she said a little too flirtatiously than originally planned, but she kept her bravado and licked her lips teasingly and then pulled away slightly to assess the damage she did.

The smaller girl followed the princess's tongue as it lathered her bottom lip, leaving a glistening path behind it. The urge to know what the blonde just tasted was overwhelming and if she hadn't noticed the slight rise in her perfectly sculpted brow something told her that she might've overstepped her boundaries as a guard. "To answer your question, yes I can handle it, thank you very much, now if you'll excuse me, I have to move an entire closet down a tower and outside the castle." Santana huffed; it's not like the weight overbore her, it was such a tremendous task to do without any assistance in such short of time.

Finally all the trunks were packed securely in the carriage and Santana and Lucy were ready to be off on their journey.

* * *

"Luce, wait one moment!" Russell came down the stone steps and stopped a few feet in front of his daughter. "Lucy, I-I'm sorry I got so angry with you the other day, you're the best daughter I could ever ask God to grace me with." He said a bit rushed, like Santana, emotional conversations wasn't his pint of mead.

She smiled at his attempted reconciliation, "It's okay, father. I understand, the pressures of ruling a kingdom and raising a daughter, I will try and be better though."

His face lit up and he grabbed Lucy in his signature bear hugs, "You know, your mother would be so proud of you." He whispered in her ear and pulled away, "but I'm still holding you to this punishment, it'll be good for you, Luce, I hope you understand that." He let go of her and took her hands in his.

Lucy gripped his hands and smiled, "I know father, it'll be good, I understand, and I'll do my best to make you proud of me."

"Excellent!" He said cheerfully, "Why don't you get into the carriage, Luce, I'd like to speak with Santana." He looked towards the young guard and she came forward as Lucy retreated inside the carriage.

"Santana, I'm sure Michael has already been through this with you, but as Lucy's father it's my duty to bring the message home; you keep my daughter safe I swear to the Mighty Lord that lives in the clouds above us I will bring Hell to you and all those whom you know and cherish, do we understand each other?" The king finished, his eyes piercing Santana through her leathers and skin and past her bones; she received the message loud and clear, and even the experienced warrior felt a fear that shook her knees as if a blizzard was passing through them.

"I understand, your grace, she will be taken care of, I promise you my life." Santana swore to the protective king as she lied through her teeth. She'll do what she has to do when the time calls for it.

"Good, now off both of you, get a move on, I don't want you to be late. Lord Hummel is expecting you, and his manor is known for quite the feast." The king looked off dreamily at the memory of past feasts he's attended at the Hummel's.

"Goodbye, father! I'll be back before you know it!" Lucy called out as the carriage began to move on the cobble-stoned road.

"Farewell, Luce! Bring me home a strapping lad I can go hunt with!" Russell called back and waved goodbye to his daughter.

Santana looked out the window as the country side passed slowly by her. She has to find a suitor by the end of this, _whatever, it means nothing to me,_ she thought to herself, _go ahead, find yourself a boy, princess, it won't matter anyways; chances are you won't make it to the fifth lord in our little journey._

**A/N: WOW! Thank you so much for all the positive feedback, you're all making this little writer very happy! I tried putting my tumblr url on the last chapter, but that failed miserably and unfortunately I'm inept when it comes to editing already published chapters so here it goes again: my url is the same as my pen name on here, just .com afterwards! You can message me any questions, suggestions or whatever else your heart may desire. Until next time! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey everyone! First off, wow, I did not expect to have such a following for my story, but thank you all so much, and as over said as it may be; it really does motivate me to have such a great audience I'm writing for. Second off, this chapter is going to be Santana's back story (sort of) I'm not ready to release all my details about her just yet, hence the sort of, but I'm planning to use most of their journey around the kingdom for backstories. Thanks again, and enjoy! **

_Keep moving, keep moving,_ Santana thought to herself. She didn't want to get hit again, and the ones from yesterday haven't fully healed yet. Santana was running along a beam just wide enough for her feet as balls of tar, charcoal, oil and fire swung at different heights. The goal was to go across the beam as fast as she could and back across for a total of three rotations. Her maestro's assistants kept the balls moving, and to add onto the differentiating heights, he'd command them to change the speed of the molten orbs as they flew towards Santana. This was one of her least favorite exercises he had her do, and it was only the warm up. _Light on your feet, move your body, command it, _she kept reiterating her maestro's words in her head; it helped her focus more on her actions and less on the searing pain she felt on her side.

"Enough, va aquí Santana" her maestro beckoned from the side. The fiery balls stopped their swinging as Santana climbed down from the rickety beam. Her maestro was Julio Armando Valdez. He was the greatest swordsman in the entire Gran Valle; unfortunately an injury from the Battle de Sangre didn't allow him to stay as a lieutenant in Santana's father's battalion. "Do you know what happens in tres días, Santana?" He asked her, even though he knew the answer. She shook her head yes; she was too nervous to speak of what her maestro was about to verbalize.

"It marks the day when El Poderoso comes to see your father; he intends for his son to take your hand, osita." He said quietly to Santana, as if it were news to her. But she smiled when he patted the top of her head; it made her feel like she was still a child, even though she was about to leave her innocence behind. He kneeled down in front of her and took her small hands in his, "Mi osita, you know I treat you as if you were my own hija, and you know how I feel about this, but this is ultimately for tú papa. I owe him everything." He paused and looked away, his mind retreated back to the memories bloodiest engagement he had ever fought in; he then rose shakily with the help of his wooden cane and released her hands from his gently and turned his back and rose his voice, "This is why we do this. This is why every day you train until the skin of your palms are rosy and risen by blisters, until your eyes have been caked with dried tears and dirt is caked around them, until every fiber of your body is singing the gran songs of mercy, drenched by the work you've done in this chamber. This is why everything in this very room is as much a part of you as your arm or legs. Your life has been this chamber," he turned back to face her and hobbled a few feet directly in front of her, "for your father, for tú familia, you must do this, mi osita. Tú tienes hacer esto" He looked into her eyes hoping the young girl would understand the gravity of what the coming days hold.

But she knew, she knew so well what this meant; it was a chance to show her father that she wasn't a mistake, that even though she was a girl, she was capable of what any son could do. She shook her yes, "Comprendo, maestro, I won't let you down." Her eyes turned to stone, unwavering and full of intensity as she began preparations for what she had to do in her head for the next few days. He smiled slightly at her change in expression; a part of him was filled with pride at the warrior he had created on his own, but another part of him, the part that has gone soft since his forced retirement, was filled with anxiety for the young child in front of him. She was so young, so naïve, he worried for her since the day her father had assigned him this task. If she fails, there will be nearly nothing she could do to find herself back into her father's good graces; he would forever forsake her name and she would remain nothing to him. Even if she accomplished what she had been trained to do all these years, it won't be enough for him. _It will never be enough for Gabriel_, he thought to himself.

* * *

Santana moved up the wooden stairs out of the training room, which was more of a dungeon, and up to her quarters. The floor above the training room doubled as Santana's room and the continuation up to the main entrance area of the Lopez's large home. Her room wasn't filled with lavish jewels and gems that most girls of her status had. It was lined with pelts that she skinned herself from her many hunts, swords, daggers, bows, arrows, staffs; if she could lift it, she had it. Directly across from her bed hung a quadrant of hay targets in a diamond formation; on the side of her bed stood a wooden shelf with a worn down candle and fifteen throwing knives sheathed in a leather contraption. She'd spend her sleepless nights hurling the iron practice knives at the targets, and would switch from her left and right; she was quick to become an ambidextrous. Once she reached her bed, Santana bent over and reached blindly under her small bed. Underneath her bed lied a large wooden basin and a slightly worn cloth; she finally found it and pulled it out from its hiding spot, and walked to her bathroom. She turned on the lukewarm water and filled the basin half way. She then placed the wooden bowl on the floor and wetted the dark cloth and slowly applied it to her burns and cuts. She gritted her teeth as the water ran through her injuries, and picked up any dirt that would bring on infections.

After Santana completed her warm up, Julio had her do a normal exercise regimen that any active solider would do in the Gran Valle: push ups, crunches, dips, and pull ups. However, Julio would add his own flare to this circuit; he'd tie sacks of potatoes to her back when she did pushups and large rocks to her ankles when she did dips and pull ups. He would command her to do a variation of different exercises for her core training, such as: squats with her arms wrapped around an immense rock, she would hold the rock close to her body as she moved her body down onto a makeshift step about a foot and a half off the ground, leg lifts with more rocks tied around her ankles, and finally he would tie her upside down and make her bend upwards until her nose was centimeters from her thighs. Finally, after her warm up and typical exercise routine, Santana would start her weaponry training. Julio would throw his assistants in a sandy ring marked only by a heavy rope with the young girl and she would come at her much larger targets with such speed and relentlessness that some tended to drop tail and run just at the sight of her gaze. Santana's signature gaze was something not even Julio could train her to do; it was the perfect mixture of bloodthirsty savageness that you only see in the eyes of man eaters and an almost manic look of calm, as if killing someone was nothing out of the ordinary. On the other hand, Santana had been trained to be a killer all her life, so it really wasn't strange to her at all.

While sparring, Santana would never cry out; she would never growl or curse, the only sound created by her was the sound of her steel on her opponent's. She would cycle through days between close combat, hand to hand combat, and long distance combat. Santana was well practiced with daggers and smaller swords; she could easily take down an enemy thrice her size. She easily maneuvered around her enemies and the bigger they were, the better, because her speed would just give her an even bigger advantage. Her hand to hand combat was good, but only for quiet takedowns; Santana couldn't actually go toe to toe with most trained warriors, it would be foolish to even hope for that. Santana definitely favored her long distance training; she got to work with the bow and her horse. Her maestro knew of her favoring and guessed it was mostly because she would be with her horse; he knew how fond she was of beasts, ever since she brought home a fox kit when she was only four and nursed it back to health.

Lastly, Santana's day would be completed by Julio instructing her on the history of the Gran Valle, her neighboring kingdoms, the men and women of greatest notoriety, and other skills such as geography, herbal knowledge, and surviving in nearly any location, in any situation. Once or twice a week Julio's lessons would be replaced entirely by another one, taught by a different maestro: Magdalena Delgado.

She was a hired assassin by Gabriel Lopez; she was known as la Mujer de Rojo to most people in the Valle; one reason behind her name was centered on the amount of people she had killed. Another reason was because she was a temptress, a siren that would call out to her prey, she would trap them with her sweet melodies and only when the last of their cheap wine was drunk would they know she wasn't a common whore. As they choked on their blood and pieces of their throat and stomach lining would they look up and see the siren's teeth lined in a sweet smile before they were dragged down to the depths of the afterlife.

She trained Santana the different effects of poisons, how to maneuver around any obstacle or terrain without making a sound, and when necessary, how to use everything around her to her advantage. She'd take Santana out on runs through the main bazaar; running atop buildings, scaffolding, and huts. They'd jump from roof top to roof top, remaining out of sight of the city guards. Magdalena would then instruct Santana on her next piece of training, one that would lead to disastrous consequences if she didn't do it perfectly: stealing. She would climb down and join the main crowd of people, maneuvering to a desired target and then quickly sneaked her hand into their pocket, grabbing whatever her hand could find. By the end of the day, Santana would end up with a small pouch of coin tied snuggly within her vest. The lesson would come to a close with a meal and some wise words from her maestro, but she would always finish with the same phrase, "You must always finish, Santana, out of respect for your target and out of respect for yourself, always." And then Magdalena would be off into the night.

* * *

Footsteps knocked her out of her thoughts and she stood at attention as her father turned to meet her. "Julio says you are ready, is that right, hija?" His face was hard; there was nothing but scrutiny in his eyes.

"Yes father, I am ready." He was the only person that ever frightened her; even Magdalena didn't frighten her as much as he did.

He took a step closer to her and looked her up and down, "You weren't quick today were you." He said more matter of fact than questioning. Santana looked anywhere but his eyes, not sure what the correct response was. "Answer me!" He yelled, spit flew into her face and she flinched at his words.

"N-no, I wasn't. Lo siento, papa…" she said quietly to her feet, ashamed of the results from the day's training.

"'Lo siento?' That's all you have to say, Santana, tu sientes?" His voice rose and then she saw the quick movement of his hand and ducked right before his hand should have met the rosy flesh of her cheek. The momentum from his movements made him off balanced and he stumbled to his hands. He turned quickly, his eyes bulged out of their sockets and his face was red and glistening with sweat. "How dare you!" Santana braced herself for the coming blow, she had to take it, or face even worse consequences.

"Señor! Señor! Your wife is awake!" one of the handmaids shouted from above the staircase. Gabriel looked up towards the sound of the voice and looked back towards Santana, "Clean yourself up, I don't want to see any marks on you, comprendes?" He sneered at her and made his way back up the steps.

She walked towards her bed and collapsed onto the firm surface. Her mother was awake, and she had two days until El Poderoso arrived with his son and riders. Two days left; no more training, no more practice, this was it. Julio's words echoed in her head as she drifted to sleep, _"T__ú__ tienes hacer esto."_

**A/N: I know! Two of these in one chapter, such blasphemy! Here's the English translation of all the Spanish spoken in this chapter (I'm sorry ahead of time to those fluent, I tried to be as grammatically correct as possible! D: ) **

**El Poderoso- roughly translates to The Mighty One**

**Va aqui- come here**

**Tres dias- three days**

**Osita- little bear **

**T****ú****- ****your**

**Papa- father**

**Gran Valle- Great Valley**

**Familia- family**

**Comprendo/comprendes – I/you understand**

**Tu tienes hacer esto – You have to do this**

**Maestro – master**

**Senor- master (of the house)**

**Hija – daughter**

**La mujer de rojo – the woman in red**

**Sientes – you're sorry**

**Again, I apologize if it's not exact and if anyone is fluent in Spanish who'd like to help me on the next few passages, message me ( ridetheair dot tumblr dot com)! Thanks again for your views and reviews! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or anything from it, but the characters Julio Armando Valdez, Magdalena Delgado and Gabriel Lopez are mine. **


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